<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>How They Hold You Like a Gun by imherecauseimnotallthere98</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30147360">How They Hold You Like a Gun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/imherecauseimnotallthere98/pseuds/imherecauseimnotallthere98'>imherecauseimnotallthere98</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sex-Repulsed Dean [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Dubious Consent, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Light Angst, M/M, Sex-Repulsed Dean Winchester, sex repulsed character, sex-repulsion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:47:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30147360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/imherecauseimnotallthere98/pseuds/imherecauseimnotallthere98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dean?”</p>
<p>There’s entirely too much concern in that tone, so Dean tries to play it casual. He turns his head just enough to show he’s paying attention, but not for Castiel to see his face.</p>
<p>“Hmm?”</p>
<p>“Is something wrong?” Castiel asks.</p>
<p>“No,” Dean says too quickly. “C’mon, Cas, I’m good.”</p>
<p>Still, no hands touch him.</p>
<p>“Can you at least face me?”</p>
<p>Fuck. No, he can’t. He can’t because Cas might not be an angel anymore, but he would know how uncomfortable Dean is the second he sees his face. If he’d waited until tomorrow, if he’d just given Dean another day to come back to himself, Dean would have been able to fake it face to face.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sex-Repulsed Dean [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2218869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>How They Hold You Like a Gun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean is in the middle of washing dishes when Castiel comes up behind him, arms gently encircling his waist, chin resting on his shoulder. The embrace is warm and so full of affection Dean relaxes into it instantly, letting his back rest against Cas’s chest.</p>
<p>“Thank you for supper, Dean,” Cas says, a low voice whispered into his ear.</p>
<p>“No problem, Cas. I don’t know how you went this long without trying lasagna. Glad you liked it.”</p>
<p>“Hmm, I did like it. I don’t know about the garlic bread, though.”</p>
<p>“What?” Dean almost drops the soapy plate in his hand. “How can you not like garlic bread?”</p>
<p>Dean feels Castiel shrug. “You don’t like ice-cream cake.”</p>
<p>Dean is about to say that’s because it gives him a stomachache, but he doesn’t have the chance before he feels Cas kissing the back of his neck. He tenses. Sometimes this is just Cas being affectionate, and sometimes this is Cas angling for something more. He can never tell at first. But then Castiel’s hands slide to his hips, and suddenly the lasagna isn’t sitting so well.</p>
<p>“I think we still have a few of Sam’s danishes in the fridge. How ’bout I heat some up?” Dean tries not to sound too hopeful. “There’re those raspberry ones you like.”</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Cas hums into his neck, still peppering it with kisses that are feeling wetter as his tongue and teeth come into play. “I think I have a different dessert in mind.”</p>
<p>Dean grips the counter tightly, hoping the tremor in his hands isn’t obvious. No, no, no, none of this is right! He should have had more time. They had sex yesterday, Dean thought he would be safe for at least a day, three if he was lucky. He can’t do this, he can’t be what Cas wants right now.</p>
<p>Those warm hands pull his hips back until they are flush against Castiel’s groin. He isn’t hard yet, but it never takes long. One hand stays in place, while the other explores under Dean’s shirt. Fingers trail lightly across his stomach, and Cas keeps sucking on his neck. Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.</p>
<p>Okay, he can do this. For Cas, he can figure it out. He <i>will</i> figure it out.</p>
<p>“Is that right?” he asks, proud of how steady his voice stays.</p>
<p>By now Cas is breathing more heavily against his neck, nose nuzzling down his shoulder in between kisses.</p>
<p>“Come to bed with me, Dean,” he breathes, fingers tightening around Dean’s hips.</p>
<p>For a moment, Dean thinks about saying he needs to finish the dishes or clean up the kitchen. But that’s a flimsy excuse, and he knows it. There are two more cups and a casserole dish left to wash, and the kitchen is spotless except for a sauce mark on the counter. Even if Cas agreed, it would only delay the night by a few minutes.</p>
<p>He dries his hands on the dishtowel and says, “Yeah, uh, alright.” He lets Cas take his hand and lead him down the hall to their bedroom. The hollow feeling in his gut and the fuzzy feeling in his mind growing with each step.</p>
<p>By the time they are in their room, the door shut behind them, Dean can hardly feel his hands. He’s aware of Castiel kissing him, running his hands over his ribs and down his back, but it feels distant, like a memory or a dream. Just barely, he remembers to return the embrace, hands settling on Cas’s hips, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles there.</p>
<p>He wishes they could just keep doing this. The kissing is nice, and he loves how Cas traces the muscles in his back delicately, like he’s touching something precious. He doesn’t even mind Cas moaning against his mouth, or the breathy noises that escape him when Dean finds a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. But it’s the anticipation of where this is leading that kills his enjoyment.</p>
<p>“Dean, I want... can I...?” Cas trails one hand down until it rests on Dean’s ass. They don’t do that as often, because Cas really enjoys bottoming, and Dean really enjoys that Cas comes fast when he’s getting fucked. When Castiel fucks Dean, he draws it out, tries to turn it into 40 minutes of making love. That’s not something Dean can handle tonight.</p>
<p>Dean doesn’t have to worry about staying hard when Cas fucks him, or what his expression might be, he just has to lay there and take it. And if Castiel is behind him, Dean can bury his face in the pillow and pretend that’s why he’s so quiet.</p>
<p>“Yeah, we can do that,” Dean says. Cas grins and resumes kissing Dean. But now his hands are pushing the flannel off Dean’s shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.</p>
<p>Dean knows he has to return the favour, but his numb fingers struggle with the button on Cas’s pants. When he finally gets it, Cas is insistently pulling on his t-shirt until Dean raises his arms and allows the shirt to be pulled off his body.</p>
<p>Castiel turns them both and guides Dean until the backs of his knees hit the bed. There is a light shove against his chest and he flops back onto the mattress where he can see Cas smiling down at him. Dean tries to return the smile, but he thinks it feels forced. Castiel tilts his head, but before he can ask if something is wrong, Dean sits up and grabs him by the waist of his pants, pulling him onto the bed. It works and that soft, happy smile returns as Cas crawls up Dean’s body to kiss him again. When Cas grinds down onto him, Dean angles his hips so Cas isn’t rubbing directly against his uninterested dick.</p>
<p>For as gentle and careful as Castiel is, he can be impatient with certain things. Like getting Dean naked. He pulls back after only a minute, pulling Dean’s jeans and underwear off in one go. His eyes fall on Dean’s cock, which hasn’t filled in the slightest. Before he can offer to help with that, Dean rolls onto his knees and crawls toward the bedside table. While he roots around in the drawer, he can hear Cas pulling his own clothes off and dropping them to the floor. As his hand closes around a half-empty bottle of Astroglide, Dean feels himself float further and further away.</p>
<p>Some part of him is aware of the bed dipping behind him, but when warm hands touch his hips, he flinches. He tries to disguise the movement by turning to hand Cas the bottle, but from the small frown on the former angel’s face, he hadn’t hidden it as well as he hoped.</p>
<p>He offers a shaky smile that does nothing to reassure Castiel, so he decides this will be best if Cas can’t see his face. Dean turns and drops to his elbows, leaving his ass in the air for Cas to prep. But he doesn’t hear the snap of a cap, or feel the cool, sticky touch of fingers on his ass.</p>
<p>“Dean?”</p>
<p>There’s entirely too much concern in that tone, so Dean tries to play it casual. He turns his head just enough to show he’s paying attention, but not for Castiel to see his face.</p>
<p>“Hmm?”</p>
<p>“Is something wrong?” Castiel asks.</p>
<p>“No,” Dean says too quickly. “C’mon, Cas, I’m good.”</p>
<p>Still, no hands touch him.</p>
<p>“Can you at least face me?”</p>
<p>Fuck. No, he can’t. He can’t because Cas might not be an angel anymore, but he would know how uncomfortable Dean is the second he sees his face. If he’d waited until tomorrow, if he’d just given Dean another day to come back to himself, Dean would have been able to fake it face to face.</p>
<p>“Uh, I’d rather do it like this,” he says, hoping Cas will take the bait and just get to it.</p>
<p>But Castiel sets a closed bottle of Astroglide on the nightstand and moves off the bed. When he returns, this time laying beside Dean, he’s wearing his boxers. A warm hand settles gently between Dean’s shoulder blades, rubbing soothing circles that help him relax.</p>
<p>“Please look at me?” Cas asks, so quietly Dean almost doesn’t hear it. Or maybe Cas is speaking normally and it just sounds quiet by the time it passes through the fog in his mind.</p>
<p>Dean drops his hips to the mattress and turns his head on the pillow until he can see Castiel’s concerned eyes watching him.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong, Dean?”</p>
<p>“Nothing’s wrong,” Dean says, but he knows that doesn’t sound true. He’s literally shaking with relief now that Cas has his boxers back on.</p>
<p>“Well, clearly something isn’t right,” Cas pushes, taking Dean’s hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. They brush over Dean’s knuckles, and Dean practically melts at the tender gesture. “Please tell me. Whatever it is, we can fix it.”</p>
<p>Dean laughs at that. A harsh, ugly sound that surprises Castiel and himself. If this were fixable, it would have fixed itself months ago. Cas has been nothing but gentle and loving every time he touches Dean, and Dean is still left feeling cold every time they have sex. It hasn’t wavered in the time they’ve been together.</p>
<p>Ever since Hell, Dean has tried. He tried for months with random hookups, women and men, until he realized it wasn’t getting any better. He tried for a year with Lisa, but it was still the same. Then more time went on, and he realized he was head-over-heels, madly in love with Castiel. He’d been so sure it would be different this time. That sex with someone he loved and who loved him would reignite his desire.</p>
<p>But nothing changed.</p>
<p>“This isn’t something you can fix. I don’t think anyone can.”</p>
<p>Cas watches him, sympathetic blue eyes locked on Dean’s.</p>
<p>“Will you tell me about it at least? If we can’t fix it, at least let me take some of the burden.”</p>
<p>“I can’t, Cas,” Dean says. Those three words sound so defeated and tired, even to his ears. He sounds 10 years older and feels even older than that.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Castiel asks. He’s still speaking low, but Dean can hear the edge of fear there.</p>
<p>“Nothing, Cas. I’m fine. <i>We’re</i> fine. C’mon, let’s either fuck or go to sleep.”</p>
<p>Castiel sits up then, but he doesn’t get off the bed or say anything. He just sits cross-legged on the mattress, watching Dean like he’s waiting for something. It takes a moment, but Dean finally realizes Cas is waiting for him to sit up too.</p>
<p>He sighs, but Cas is just as stubborn as he is, maybe more. This isn’t something he’s going to let Dean brush under the rug to be forgotten.</p>
<p>Dean gets up and grabs his underwear off the floor. He knows he’s stalling, but that doesn’t stop him from walking over to the dresser he and Cas share and pulling out some pajama pants and a worn shirt. He finds some sleep clothes for Cas too, and tosses them on the bed before pulling his own pants on.</p>
<p>Cas is stubborn, but he takes the hint and gets dressed.</p>
<p>When Dean joins him on the bed, sitting so he can lean back against the headboard, Cas takes his hand again. His fingers are still so soft from years of grace healing every wound instantly, but Dean can feel the beginnings of calluses forming. All those hours digging up graves and learning to shoot are wearing on his body like an experienced hunter.</p>
<p>“Dean,” Cas says, in a tone Dean rarely hears anymore. He sounds worried. “How many times have we kept something from each other?”</p>
<p>Dean snorts. Was he meant to keep track? They’ve forgiven and moved on since then, but in all the years they’ve known each other, they’ve fucked each other over with secrets and lies plenty.</p>
<p>“Dunno. Too many.”</p>
<p>Castiel nods.</p>
<p>“Exactly. And each time, all we did was make things worse. We hurt each other, we nearly lost each other more than once.”</p>
<p>Dean can hardly bear the thought of losing Castiel. Even back then, before they both got their heads out of their respective asses, the idea of Cas leaving him forever hurt almost as much as the idea of Sam leaving.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dean says, his voice rougher than he’d expected.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to go through that again, Dean. I don’t want to lose you to secrets or lies. We’re supposed to be honest with each other. We’re supposed to be a team. But that only works if we want it to.”</p>
<p>Dean hates when Cas makes a really good point. It makes it harder for him to remember why he ever had a different opinion.</p>
<p>“I want this to work, Cas,” Dean says, the most sincere thing he’s said all night. “You have to know that.”</p>
<p>“Then please be honest with me, Dean.”</p>
<p>Dean doesn’t know what to say. He’s had this conversation with Cas a million times in his head and it never went well. What if Cas left him? What if he never wanted to see Dean again? He said he didn’t want to lose the trust between them again, but hadn’t Dean already ensured that would happen? He’d lied right from the start. How could Cas ever trust him now?</p>
<p>“Is it this vessel?” Castiel asks quietly, his gaze dropping away from Dean for the first time since they’ve been talking. “I know in the past you’ve shown a strong preference for women. I’m sorry if-”</p>
<p>“Whoa, whoa, hold up. That’s what you think this is about? Cas, babe, I love everything about you, including the fact that you’re a guy.”</p>
<p>That seemed to relax Castiel somewhat, but he was still looking at Dean curiously, waiting for the truth.</p>
<p>“Then what is this about? I might not be an angel anymore, Dean, but I know you. I know something is wrong. What aren’t you telling me?”</p>
<p>Dean knows he’s fucked. There’s no way Castiel is going to drop this now. Dean had admitted <i>something</i> was going on, and he wouldn’t disrespect Cas enough to try to convince him otherwise.</p>
<p>He feels like crying. Never in all his years of hunting did he ever see himself settling down. It just wasn’t possible. Any time he’d gotten close, with Cassie and then with Lisa, something happened and he realized it was selfish to drag civilians into this life. Or use them to pull himself out. Hunting had been his life since he was four years old. He couldn’t shut it off.</p>
<p>But he thought it would be different with Castiel. He wasn’t a civilian, he had no interest in a “normal” life. Hunting, protecting others, that was his life. And he was good at it. For the first time, Dean had someone other than Sam he could rely on. He didn’t have to be on guard all the time, Castiel could take some of the burden and let him rest.</p>
<p>For once, Dean let himself believe he found someone he could be with for more than a night. Hunters never really settled down, but with the bunker as a home and Castiel at his side, Dean thought he was about as close as he could get. He was happy.</p>
<p>Now he could feel it slipping away.</p>
<p>“Cas, I...”</p>
<p>There was no way Cas would stay after this. It’s too big. And Dean is too scared. He wants to keep his life with Castiel. Imperfect as it is, it’s still worlds better than the alternative.</p>
<p>“Can we just go to sleep, please? I’m exhausted,” Dean says, even though the anxiety running through his system is definitely going to keep him awake for hours.</p>
<p>For a moment, Castiel looks like he’s going to object. Maybe demand they finish this conversation before bed. Neither of them are exactly experts on relationships, but Castiel usually insisted they not go to bed angry. A sweet guy in his 80s they’d interviewed on a hunt had imparted this wisdom to Castiel, and the former angel took it seriously. To be fair, the guy had been happily married for 61 years and counting, so maybe there was some truth to his advice.</p>
<p>But Dean and Castiel aren’t angry, and this isn’t exactly a fight, right? This is just a conversation.</p>
<p>“Fine,” Castiel says, in a tone that Dean recognizes, but hasn’t heard in a long time. It’s cold and impersonal, the way Castiel speaks to strangers. The way he hasn’t spoken to Dean since before they were even friends. “If you’re tired, then you should sleep.”</p>
<p>Castiel lets go of Dean’s hands and climbs from the bed. But instead of getting under the covers and beckoning Dean to lie down with him, Castiel heads for the door.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” Dean asks.</p>
<p>“I’m going to sleep in my old room.”</p>
<p>Dean’s heart stops. He can’t remember the last time Castiel slept anywhere but in bed with him. They’d even squeezed together on Jody’s couch one night when the only other option was sleeping apart. It wasn’t even a fold-out. “<i>What</i>? Why?”</p>
<p>“I think we both need some time to think.”</p>
<p>If his heart stopped before, now it’s dropping into his guts. What things did Castiel need to think over?</p>
<p>“Cas, come on, this is your bed too-”</p>
<p>“Dean,” Castiel interrupts gently. “I’m not comfortable sharing this bed when I know you’re lying to me.”</p>
<p>Well, doesn’t that just make him feel like dog shit? The worst part is, this isn’t Castiel being dramatic or trying to punish him. Castiel doesn’t play games like that. He isn’t sleeping in a dusty room across the hall because he wants to guilt Dean into talking. He’s doing it because he genuinely feels uncomfortable staying. And that’s worse.</p>
<p>Dean can’t even insist he hadn’t lied, because he had. Every time Castiel and he had sex, Dean’s moans and encouragements and consent had been a lie.</p>
<p>“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Castiel says, pausing in the doorway for a moment. In that instant, Dean can see his cold exterior fall away and reveal the hurt and the fear beneath it.</p>
<p>But Castiel doesn’t linger for long. When he leaves, he closes the door behind him. It would have been easier if he’d slammed it, if he’d shown some anger. Dean knows how to deal with that. But somehow the gentle click of the latch hurts more.</p>
<p>Dean doesn’t realize he’s crying until the first tear hits his hand. Then the floodgates open and he’s sobbing and wheezing and clawing at the pain in his chest where it feels like his heart is crushed. This time, he hasn’t waited for the job to ruin his relationship, or for a monster to take Castiel away. He’s gone and fucked it up all on his own.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have at least one more work in this series coming up. It's already written and just needs to be edited, so I'm hoping to get it up soon. It has its fair share of angst and pining, but I promise it ends happily. I just had to pack in the angst before then.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>